


Battleship

by DittyWrites



Series: Gotham Rogues Drabbles [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Board Games, Games, Gen, Snark, Threats of Violence, Unwanted psychological assessment lmao, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Despite neither being a particularly big gambler, Jonathan Crane and Harvey Dent are quick to find themselves involved in a little wager over a very intense game of…Battleship?





	Battleship

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff and nonsense!! xx

The game selection in the Arkham rec room was as bare as could be.

Twister had been banned after an inmate ripped the plastic arrow from its board and attempted to lodge it in the throat of an unsuspecting guard. Dice games had been stripped due to an unfortunate suicide involving the small die being self-inserted into the windpipe of the inmate in question and any kind of sporting equipment left in the room was sure to end the day covered with unwilling blood.

It was dire.

The options deemed most 'safe' and left for the inmates free use were chess, the pieces made of soft plastic and foam, or Battleship, where the ships had been filed to ensure no sharp edges remained.

It was demeaning but the alternate option, pure boredom, was even less attractive in the eyes of Jonathan Crane.

Plus, a quick game of Battleship gave him an exceptionally rare opportunity to study his opponent.

Harvey Dent.

Two Face.

Despite not being particularly fond of gambling or the like, Jonathan could sense the potential for psychological assessment like a shark could blood and he would have been a fool to pass up a small gambit between himself and his scarred 'friend'. And so the terms were set.

For every ship which Jonathan sunk, he was allowed to ask Dent a question and study the reaction.

For every ship which Dent sunk, he was allowed to punch Jonathan square in the jaw with no retaliation.

Five ships per side.

A maximum of five opportunities either way.

Jonathan would confess to a mild surprise when Dent had initially agreed to his offer of a game. The ex-District Attorney often used every element of his power to keep his person as far away from Jonathan as physically possible. Probably due to Jonathans self-admitted fascination with the divide between the other man and his psychological make-up.

His ignorance of exactly 'how' Dent's psyche worked often pecked at his thoughts but any attempt to approach the subject tended to result in a magnum shot to his general area.

“B7.” Dent grunted after weighing up the current options, his scarred hand scratching lightly at the orange jumpsuit which covered his chest.

“Miss.” Jonathan paused. “D9.”

“Hit.”

“B2.”

“Miss.” Repeating himself, Jonathan could sense victory. “D10.”

Dent clenched his teeth.

“You sunk my carrier.”

“First blood to me then.” Jonathan smiled unpleasantly before going in for the kill. “Would you refute your entire criminal life in exchange for the chance to return to your former life as District Attorney? To be with your wife again? To attempt to put monsters like me down instead of having to co-operate with them to survive these streets?”

“That was more than one question.” Dent bit out, hand fisting into a ball, and Jonathan had to wonder how much self-restraint it was taking the other man to not simply leap at him and beat him to a pulp.

“It was one question with some additional follow-up questions which we have both already agreed you do not need to answer.” Jonathan pointed out. “Besides, I already have my answer.”

The spark of longing which lit up in both Dent's healthy eye and the eye which lacked proper protection due to the acid erosion was undeniable in its truth.

He would give everything for a chance at his old life.

Interesting.

“My turn.” Apparently electing to ignore him, Dent moved on. “C11.”

“Hit.”

The game continued for several rounds with Jonathan losing his submarine to Dent's guessing and earning himself a willing assault, which he assumed would be delivered at some point, until it was again Jonathans' turn to make a guess.

“H5.”

“You sunk his battleship!”

Arriving on the scene just in time to watch Dent place the last peg in his battleship, Nygma's exclaim was loud and filled with cheesy tones.

However, the look he received from both seated men was so grim in nature that his smile faded and he turned on his heel and disappeared almost immediately.

“Did I?” Jonathan cocked his brow. “Sink it, that is.”

A barely muttered confirmation is all he received for his troubles.

“Hmm.”

Pausing to consider his next attempt at analysing the mystery that was Harvey Dent, Jonathan steepled his long fingers beneath his chin and leaned further into his space.

“Do the crimes you commit under the name of Two Face repulse the small part of you that will always consider yourself Harvey Dent? Do you ever experience moments of levity which show you your true face? Of a man torn, not physically, but spiritually between two radically different moral stances?”

Silence again from Dent but his shoulders visibly tensed as the vein in his throat grew more noticeable. His gaze was stony as it focussed on an area somewhere over Jonathans' own shoulder but the body language was hardly difficult to discern.

He had struck a chord.

“F-” Dent began but was soon interrupted by a loud voice.

“ALL INMATES! REC TIME IS NOW OVER! PLEASE FORM AN ORDERLY LINE TO BE RETURNED TO YOUR CELLS!” An orderly cried out over the noise of the television and various conversations.

Sighing at the interruption, Jonathan pushed up from his chair. The groaning of his bones as they shifted was an affront, ageing him beyond his years as he walked away from the table.

“Next time, Dent.” He called over his shoulder without the pleasantries of a proper goodbye.

A pressure on his shoulder caused him pause as he turned to discover who had dared to touch him.

Dents' fist as it flew into his jaw caused his vision to black out for a moment as the weight of the punch forced him to fall into the wall at his side.

Blinking away the darkness, Jonathans' vision returned just in time to allow him to view Dent being escorted from the room by a pair of orderlies as his deep voice carried over their heads.

“Did you think I would forget,” the echoes of Dent's yell could be heard even as he was dragged further back to his cell, “that I sunk your submarine, asshole?”

“No I hadn't,” Jonathan muttered to himself as he jerked his jaw from side-to-side to test the damage, “but I was hopeful.”

 


End file.
